


How to (not) take care of ants

by Anonymous



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alfred wants a raise, Ants, Attempt at Humor, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Damian is the Steve Irwin of the DC universe, Dysfunctional Family, Families of Choice, Family Shenanigans, Fire ants ARE scary and no one can convince Tim otherwise, Gen, Inspired by Real Events, Over his ants, Overprotective Damian Wayne, References to Home Alone Movies, Tim Drake is So Done, Tim is a human train wreck, bc ants are cool, but we love him okay?, but with Ants, not beta read we die like Robin, this is an insect positive story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 23:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21187538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After a horrible mishap in the latest patrol between the two youngest of the family, Alfred declared that the whole Wayne family needed a vacation. And if your butler demands a vacation, then the family will get a one.And in true Home Alone (middle-child) style, Tim is left behind to take care of the house while the rest of the family are forced to cohabitate in the most awkward passive-aggressive vacation in the history of the Wayne family.But this time will not be easy, since he has an important task and that its to take care of Damian’s exotic pet. Pets that come in the form of eusocial insects of the Formicidae family, also known as Ants. Fire ants. But surely taking care of some insects won’t be that hard. After all, there are just insects, right?.Spoiler alert: It was not.





	How to (not) take care of ants

**Author's Note:**

> I have no explanation for this.  
This is just crack.  
Co-written with my sister who knows way too much about ants.

Doomsday started the morning Bruce decided that Tim and Damian needed to put their differences aside, with the excuse that both were now old enough to take care of themselves.

In the order of a “well-placed” order, that didn’t give room to bulge. It was the kind of order parents gave around without expecting any input. Like the kind of chores your parents requested just so they could have a moment of peace when they were beginning to regret the idea of having a kid.

But instead of the typical _“Tim please put the groceries away”_ or “_Tim, please set up the table”_ or even just the typical _“Tim don't set up the ramen on fire”_, this time it was more along the lines of having to translate the sleep-deprived growls Bruce from the darkness of his bedroom.

Which was very hypocritical coming from him, since whenever Tim did that he was labeled as “depressed” but whenever Bruce did that, he was just “tired”. But he could at least appreciate the effort.

A+ for the “edgy” tone.

B- for growling.

And D- for putting him with _ Damian. _

And as one of the first rules every middle child has, if your adopted father started growling from lack of sleep, it was when you knew you must give him space. Which translated in marching, after a long day of work to Damian’s room and knocking on the door. 

But nicely, since he’s not a caveman-like Bruce.

“Damian,” He stated as nicely as he could, which was not much since it was the demon-child they were talking about. He leaned against the wall for support, his body barely holding up after going through those three meetings with the rest of the directors and counted to ten.

He sighed when he received no answer from the other side.

Knocking with more force, he gritted out since as a middle child, he was hard-wired to be civilized anyways.

” We need to go, Damian” Then he added because Bruce’s had said so. “Bruce said it wasn’t school night so you can drop the act,”

“Go away Drake,” was the short squeak reply that was supposedly the definition of the word anger. To Tim, it sounded more like a mix of an angry koala and an allergic reaction. “I’m busy,”

He couldn’t help but groan since the last thing Tim wanted was to deal with an uncooperative Damian, and now he was acting like a brat.

“We got a lead on Piranha’s whereabouts” He prompted hoping that would be enough to take Damian out of his lair. Since the past few days, the whole family had united forces to bring down the criminal who had been lately terrorizing Gotham.

And if everything came accordingly to the plan, today would be the last night Piranha would roam free; at least until he bought his way out of prison. But...that wasn’t important whatsoever, it was the sentiment behind it.

But because someone needed to beat Dick’s “catching villain” score of the month, or else they would be forced again to watch Dick’s awful repertoire of bad romance flicks and flying sharks on movie nights.

He could almost imagine how the next of the month would play out if he didn’t do something; with Bruce overanalyzing every possible angle or strategy to share it with Arthur _ (No Bruce, you can’t incorporate sharks in a plan, just no), _ Damian declaring that was animal abuse and threatening to call PETA while Jason ( _ the traitor _) passed out on the couch, leaving him to see that abomination.

So no, call him whatever you want, but Tim needed to catch Piranha. His sanity was on the line.

And since one of their informants had gracefully lent them some information on the man’s future whereabouts, it was why they (no scratch that, Tim) needed to catch them.

“What type of Piranha?” Damian asked suddenly interested, cracking the door open.

“The villain, Damian,” Tim deadpanned. “Unless you think that a wanted drug-dealer is some type of tropical fish.”

“Tsss,” Damian hissed through his teeth, stretching the “s” firm like he was parseltongue fluent. Tim blinked, waiting for the reply while forcing his body to not rip the door open and shake the kid until he cooperated with him.

Why couldn’t Damian understand the severity of the situation?

Nobody likes those sharks movies.

“Try harder next time,” He declared with his chin up to compensate for the lack of height. Then he slammed the door against his face while yelling. “Not interested Drake!”

Tim narrowed his eyes.

“Damian open the door,” He ordered while mentally cursing the little hellion’s existence and Bruce’s ineptitude to keep his horniness into his pants. “We need to catch this villain”

“And I refuse to submit to your lowly standard-”

“Open the door” He began to knock the door harder, just so he could make his point. When his knuckles begin to ache Tim stopped, counted backward from ten, and then started to knock energetically. “Bruce ordered us!”

“I don’t care what Father says! “He yelled stubbornly. “We live in a democracy!”

“And what does that have to do with Bruce!” He yelled back, wanting to strangle the Demon-child, but softly, so Bruce wouldn’t kill him. Stupid brat and Bruce for forcing him to waste his night into this shitshow. “And you’re a minor anyways so you have to follow Bruce’s orders!”

“No, I’m not!”

“You’re eleven years old!”

“I’m an _ assassin!” _

“We all have to follow Bruce’s ord-”

“How dare you compare your lowly lineage to mine,” Came the outrageous reply that Tim had no patience left. “I’m Damian Wayne Al-”

“And I _ don’t _care,” He punctuated, adding more strength to his punches, ignoring how the wood creaked. “We need to need to get out of there now-!”

His hand went through the door. Like legit, destroy the center. He stared dumbfounded at his bleeding hand, who had too many splinters incrusted into his hand while Damian’s door had one giant hole in the middle.

Silence reigned for a minute as Tim took a step back, mentally preparing for the screeching that was about to come. He knew how Damian could react whenever he felt threatened.

“Damian,” He started licking his lips as he eyed the nearest escape exit. Shit, he hadn’t meant to do that. “I’m sorry-?”

_ “DRAKE!” _ Tim flinched as he’d been struck, which wasn’t far off since he felt as if his eardrums had exploded. 

“Uh?” He couldn’t help but say, creeping in to see what Damian was referring to but before he could inch closer the door opened with a loud bang, little chips from the wall falling to the floor.

And there in the form of 4 feet and 6 inches monster was Damian cradling something with his left hand and a pair of tweezers on the other. He blinked, narrowing his eyes at the diminutive thing in Damian’s hand, twitching in its last moments before stopping all movement altogether.

“Is that...an _ ant?” _

_ “HOW DARE YOU!” _

**Author's Note:**

> Every comment or kudo saves Tim from the ant-apocalypse.


End file.
